


it's all in my head (but she's touching his chest now)

by guineaDogs



Series: south park drabbles [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Sadsturbation, internet creeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 23:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: Anon Drabble Req: Stoken, Stan is weirdly jealous of Wendy getting back together with Token





	it's all in my head (but she's touching his chest now)

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t _fair._

He shouldn’t have ever gotten back on Facebook. It was a cesspool of a website, and despite knowing that quite well as a child, he seemed to have forgotten that at some point. Because here he was, not only logging onto the website, but scrolling through his dash. Seeing what the haps were.

And that was when he saw it.

_Wendy Testaburger is in a relationship with Token Black._

Something acidic boiled in the pit of his soul. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t hurt. Not really, no, not at all. Why would he be? He and Wendy were friends. But _Token_ …

He should’ve just logged out, closed the tab, erased his browser history, deleted his cookies. But Stan didn’t always do what was best for him. Instead, he hit the like button, hit up the comment section.

 _Oh wow, I didn’t know you two were talking again!_  
_I guess congratulations are in order._  
_Wow, I’m so happy for you, Wendy._  
_Such an attractive couple lol I’m kinda jealous lol_  
  
If he played it off as a joke, it wasn’t a big deal, right? It didn’t _have_ to mean anything. Except it did mean something, it meant everything and he couldn’t help but feel bitter that Token would never notice him the way he wanted, that he’d never look at him the way he probably looked at Wendy. 

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember the last time he even saw Token in person. What mattered was the torch he’d carried since high school. The torch that could linger just under the surface, secretly aflame, until now. It was just so much more difficult to keep his own thoughts in check when Token had to be dating _Wendy_ of all people.

It would’ve been better if it was someone he didn’t know. It would’ve been easier to ignore.

Instead, he could imagine the two of them far too well. She was beautiful, _they_ were both beautiful. Token was perfect in every way. Perfect skin, perfect hair, toned muscle that was almost as obvious under his fitted designer suits as it was in the plethora of post-workout photos he posted on Instagram.

Just thinking of it was all the incentive he needed to pull up Token’s Instagram. He clicked on one photo, one of Token leaning against the railing of a building, overlooking some far-off place Stan didn’t recognize. His suit was tailored, Italian, sunglasses dark, smile bright. As he studied the photo, he felt his jeans tighten. But that wasn’t a big deal—in the privacy of his own apartment, he had no qualms about unzipping them or reaching for the bottle of lotion that he had within reach.

The next photo was one of the many gym photos. Stan imagined Token posing for this in the locker room after lifting weights, after running—Stan wasn’t sure what his workout regime was, but it _worked._ Who did he think about when he took photos like this one? When he was standing in front of a mirror, shirtless, abs _glistening._

He supposed now, it was Wendy he thought of.

Stan wondered if Token enjoyed running his hands through Wendy’s hair. It was much shorter now than it was when he’d done that. Did she take his breath away? Did he sigh and moan when she ran her hands down his chest? Did he like having nails raked down his back?

These thoughts were killing him, but what killed him even more was knowing that _Wendy_ had all of the answers. _She_ knew how he liked to be touched, _she_ had the privilege of kissing Token everywhere, of touching him in all the places and all the ways that he could only dream of.

His mind raced, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking vigorously as scrolled through Token’s photos. There was no finesse to his jerky movements. Feeling _good_ and prolonging this wasn’t part of the game. It never was. This was about getting it out of his system, twisting his wrist in hopes of jerking out this fucked up part of him that couldn’t let it go.

Once he did, he could bottle up whatever remained. If he somehow saw either of them in person, he could pretend that he didn’t often fantasize about what it would be like to have Token rail him against every surface imaginable—

He was close. That shameful buildup began to rise to the surface, and as he _liked_ one of Token’s photos from several years prior, he let out a choked sob as he spilled over onto his hand, onto his shirt, the touchpad of his laptop.

Still holding onto his softening cock, he wept.

Some things could just never be.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @thaumatroping


End file.
